Up On Your Feet
by Lucifer's Garden
Summary: Jayne surprises the crew by giving River a rather heartening gift on her birthday. Post BDM, pre Rayne friendship.


**Firefly and everything affiliated with it belongs to Joss Whedon, the show's creator. **Well, after the angstfest that was _All the Little Pieces_, I figured I'd write something a little lighter for Jayne and River. It's still a bit sad and dark in some places, but it ends nicely!

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_**Up On Your Feet**_

Jayne Cobb was cleaning the cargo hold. Alone. Again. Had to be the third or fourth time in the last week. The gorram place just kept getting dirty, no matter how hard he worked to keep it presentable. Mal hadn't asked him to do it 'cept for the day when it was actually the merc's turn – the crew rotated hours to spread the workload evenly. Only, nobody else seemed to be mindin' their shifts.

Well his turn had come and gone, and he shouldn't be worrying about it for another few weeks or so. Yet there he was, scrubbing away at an oil stain that would not ruttin' come out, in spite of all the sawdust he had poured on beforehand. He scowled down at the stain, mocking him with its refusal to go away. Must have been there longer than he thought, and had time to soak in. The damn mule had been leakin' all over the place lately, but he'd take a look at that later.

Nobody would blame him or even care if he simply abandoned the task and moved on to something else. Ever since what happened on Miranda, the whole crew had gone a little lax when it came to duties, preferring instead to withdraw to their respective bunks where they could be alone with their thoughts. Meals were usually silent, except for Kaylee's attempts to strike up conversation. With a brooding captain and a stone-cold warrior widow, though, even the young mechanic was having a tough time keepin' a smile on her face. That annoyed Jayne. Nobody had the right to take Kaylee's light away, no matter how close the grief was. It was downright selfish. Even now that she and the doc were together, it was like it was suddenly not okay for them to enjoy each other's company, especially in front of Zoe. It didn't sit well with the mercenary. His attitude towards Simon had changed a bit, from disdain to a slow, grudging respect and the idea that maybe the doc was more than just some Core-bred dandy. And he made Kaylee happy, which earned him bonus points in Jayne's book. But that plus all the tension gatherin' between Mal and Inara, _Serenity _was becoming anything but serene. The captain and the companion were acting even twitchier around each other than before. A step had been taken that slightly lessened the gap between them, but neither was willing to make another move. Since Miranda they'd just been circling each other, never really getting close but not moving away either. It was annoying as hell; Jayne was tempted to grab them both and lock them in a room alone together until they could sort their mess out.

Part of him knew this was overkill. The cargo hold didn't usually need lookin' after more than once a week, but he couldn't seem to stop finding things that needed seein' to. He kept coming back to the cargo hold because he'd already polished nearly every other inch of the ship, and if he cleaned his guns any more than he already had, they'd probably disappear from sight. The hold was the only place that kept getting messed up, after every job they took. And since nobody else seemed to care, the task of keeping the place in order fell to him. He was always worn out these days, and crashed into his bunk every night with aching muscles, but it was the only way he could sleep deep and dreamless. It was the only way he could sleep at all.

Cursing, Jayne threw the brush aside and rose stiffly to his knees, hell bent on hunting for something that would get the offensive mark off the floor.

"Tri sodium phosphate might accomplish what you require."

Jayne quickly looked over his shoulder to see the girl sitting on one of the crates nearby, examining the radio cortex he'd set up to help the hours pass. She moved so quietly, he never even heard her come in and had no idea how long she'd been there. He should have been used to it now, since she had a habit of sneaking up on people, but that's the thing; you don't anticipate being startled.

"Tri sodia what?" he asked with a frown, trying to keep up with the big words she'd tossed at him.

River rolled her eyes. "Tri sodium phosphate," she repeated slowly. "An amalgamation of chemicals that has a reputation for removing oil stains. The Valkyrie keeps a supply in the cabinet with the other cleaning provisions."

"Huh," he grunted, recognizing her nickname for Zoe. Once the moonbrain had explained to him what a Valkyrie was, he couldn't think of a more fittin' description. Especially since losing Wash.

The young mind reader watched him cross the hold to the cabinet where the cleaning supplies were stored and sought out a plain spray bottle marked 'TSP' in black felt. He grabbed a pair of gloves and some goggles (ain't no way he was gonna go blind before his time) before returning to the stain. Picking up the previously cast aside brush, he sprayed some of the stuff onto the spot and began scrubbing again, amazed at the results. The ruttin' thing nearly disappeared right before his eyes. He kept at it, and barely a minute later, the stain was gone. Satisfied, he removed the goggles and went to fetch the broom to sweep up the greasy sawdust he'd poured earlier.

When he came back, the girl tilted her head to the side, the shift causing a curtain of brown hair to slip over her shoulder. "Jayne is displaying an over abundance of concern that the hold should be in a constant immaculate state. Contradictory to his previous nature."

He blinked at her. She pursed her lips for a moment and then tried again. "You are showing a previously unseen dedication to cleaning."

"Oh. Why the hell didn't ya say that the first time?" he grumbled. Before Miranda, he would have chased her away with a few choice words and told her to leave him be, but now . . . now he was more careful. Something had switched over and become permanent inside of him, cementing his loyalty to the ship. To the crew. And like it or not, that included crazy little River Tam, who wasn't quite so crazy anymore. Besides, her company wasn't all bad. When she wasn't asking weird questions, she was usually quiet, and just preferred watching him work. She'd even helped him out a few times, passing him tools and supplies and the like.

He shrugged a little and began clipping a tool belt around his waist. "Just want to keep busy, I guess. Somethin' wrong with that?"

She shook her head slowly and leaned in to listen to the song that had come on the radio wave. "Any such implication was not intended on her part." He took that to mean 'no' and nodded once as if to affirm it.

Then suddenly she turned up the volume on the radio cortex, a delighted look on her face. Jayne wrinkled his nose in distaste; it was some fancy piano music, with harps and violins and all manner o' sissy things.

"I ain't playin' that _go se _when I'm workin'," he informed her. "A man's gotta have real music when he's fixin' stuff. Change the channel."

But she was not listening to him. Her eyes were closed, and she was slowly swaying in place to a beat that he couldn't hear. Slowly she unfolded her legs and stood up on the crate, still moving with that rhythm in her mixed up head.

"Hang on now," he warned, quickly moving to stand near the box. "Yer gonna fall if you keep that up, and I just cleaned the place. Get down."

She twirled skillfully and then promptly let herself fall right into his startled arms, her eyes still closed with a dreamy grin on her face. He righted her and set her down on her feet, annoyed at how quickly he had rushed to be her little safety net. When she was acting all childish and silly like this, it was easy to forget the ass-kicking ninja girl she really was.

As soon as he let go of her she spun away from him, dancing like some little elf creature without a care in the world. He backed up and crossed his arms over his broad chest, squinting at her. She was doing all kinds of fancy ballet stuff (at least, that's what it looked like to him, though he weren't no expert on the subject), whirling around with her arms up over her head, occasionally lifting a leg with perfect balance and alignment. Her face told him everything; he'd never seen her look so happy, so content. For a moment he could almost forget that she was messed up in the head, she looked so at peace. Jayne didn't much care for art – saw no use for it if it couldn't be drunk, shot, or sexed – but watchin' River flit about like that, even he could see that she was pure poetry in motion. The sheer physicality, the complete control she had over every muscle in her body was hard not to admire. He vaguely remembered something her brother said about her dancing, but he had never actually seen her do it before.

No, that wasn't true. He'd seen her dance all right . . . she danced whenever she fought. The way she moved with the music now was he pictured her moving with a sword in her hand, slashing through Reavers. He couldn't help but remember her back at the Maidenhead, cracking skulls and breaking arms left and right without the slightest effort. Even then he'd been amazed at her grace, her agility. The little ballerina that could kill you with one perfectly aimed kick to the throat. It was hard to imagine those dainty feet doing such a thing, but he'd seen it before, and damn if he wasn't impressed. Maybe even jealous. He had to work hard for his muscles, yet he knew that she would be an even match for him in a tussle. Hell, she'd nearly pulled his nuts clean off back at that bar . . .

Jayne had the sudden notion that she was bracing herself to do an extra special move. The music had picked up its pace a little, and her body was starting to gather momentum with all that twirling. He unconsciously held his breath as she suddenly went up on her toes, and then winced when she cried out in shock and fell to her knees.

He sighed and went to help her up, but she jumped up on her own, flushed with embarrassment. Her eyes were stinging with pain.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Mortified," she mumbled, moving to sit on the crate so she could examine her toes. She didn't even need to see his puzzled expression before simplifying herself. "Feeling foolish."

He snorted a little. "Hell, you were doin' just fine 'til the end. Little slip. Nothin' to get upset over."

"Dancing is all I have."

The merc pulled up short at that simple, but resounding statement. She kept her eyes downcast as she massaged the pain out of her toes. "Dancing is the only thing they did not take from me. If I cannot . . . if one simple maneuver proves too difficult . . . then it is one more thing that I have lost."

One little fall, and suddenly she was afraid of never being able to dance again? He just didn't get it, but the fear hiding in her voice made him itch uncomfortably all the same. It bothered him, sensing that something was wrong and not knowing how to fix it. Seeing girls upset – his girls, _Serenity's _girls – did strange, uncomfortable things to his stomach. And he wondered if he would ever really get over the sudden, sweeping anger he felt whenever he thought of those _tyen-sah duh uh-muo_ messin' around with River's brain like she was some ruttin' plaything.

"Comprehension is hard to come by," she sighed. "She does not expect him to understand her irrationalities."

Jayne found himself wishing he were good at this whole 'comforting girls' thing. It had never been a particularly honed skill of his, unless you count sexin' them as comfort.

"I don't."

He glared at her, but decided not to snap at her about keeping out of his head. She was better at controlling herself now, but she still accidentally overheard things now and then. Weren't her fault, he had to remind himself on more than one occasion. Gotta be patient with little crazy girls.

"Yeah, well . . . when yer toes feel better, you'd best head on outta here. The captain said somethin' about flying out today, he'll need you in the bridge," he told her, turning to direct his attention on the leaky mule. A few weeks ago, if someone had told him that she would take over as the ship's pilot and prove to be just as capable as Wash, he would have thought it was a very disturbing joke.

River obligingly changed the radio channel on the cortex before she left. She knew he hated that sissy stuff.

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Days turned into weeks, and on her eighteenth birthday, River was sitting in her bunk, pondering. Alone. Again.

She knew it was unreasonable, but the idea of dancing now made her feel anxious and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered in protest. Ever since that day in the cargo hold when she had forgotten herself and stumbled. Bare feet were inappropriate for attempting to balance exclusively on the toes – such delicate, weak appendages. She should have known better, but the music swept her up and carried her away from sense. What was once her greatest joy and most cherished form of release was now a threat to the very stability of her mind that she fought so long and hard to recapture.

Jayne had not laughed or condescended her when he witnessed her clumsiness. He did not even pretend to understand her anxiety over the mishap, but she had felt a flicker of sympathy from him, which was a new development. She held the image of him in her mind for a moment, Atlas with the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders. Every day he worked tirelessly, almost obsessively, to make sure that the ship – and consequently the crew – stayed whole; a task he had wordlessly embraced without realizing it. More than anyone, River believed, the burly mercenary had changed since Miranda.

She shuddered involuntarily. The very name of that planet, even as a mere whisper in her head, still made her feel nauseous. Control was, for the most part, hers again. Her mind had walls now, not so easily broken even in fear or anger. She could stem the flow of nonsense before it all rushed out of her without her consent, twisting her meaning and making the others back away in confusion. And she did not wake up screaming in the dark anymore. But Wash – a warm, brightly clothed jester who always treated her kindly – still haunted her dreams, as did the wise and gentle Shepherd Book. She wished she had not reacted so violently to his wild, frightening hair in the past; she would give anything to see it now.

The guilt rose like bile in her throat whenever she crossed paths with Zoe, the Valkyrie who would not fall apart on the outside even when her insides had been hollowed out with screams that she dare not release. _I took away her sunshine_. Logic told River that she did not physically kill Wash with her own bare hands . . . but everything that had led up to his and the preacher man's death was irrefutably her doing. She had begged her parents to let her go to the Academy, begged and pleaded and even manipulated their emotions with subtle wiles they could not detect. Of course she could not have foreseen what lay in store for her, and for the crew of _Serenity_ . . . but that did not change the basic scheme of things. Cause and effect. Zoe did not blame her, not consciously. But deep in the night, in the dark cold places of her mind that she did not govern, River's face was a mask of death that had claimed her husband.

_I fell upon them like a great and terrible wave. The damage of my withdrawal is worse than the initial crash . . . I go back out to sea, and Wash and Book are dragged into the depths of my wake. _

Footsteps outside her bunk announced Simon's presence, interrupting her thoughts. He knocked twice, ever the gentleman, before he slid the door open and ducked into the room. She smiled a little when he leaned down to kiss her cheek, his standard greeting.

"You've been awfully quiet all day, _mei mei_," he told her, peering down at her curiously. "Everything all right?"

She nodded and patted his hand reassuringly. "Merely enjoying the silence," she lied. "Contemplating things."

"Are you nervous about being eighteen? It's an important age."

River shook her head with a wry grin. "Feels no different than seventeen. Now hurry up and lead me to my surprise party."

He shook his head in dismay. "I should have known it would be useless to try. I thought you said you weren't going to read my mind anymore!"

She couldn't help but laugh at his indignation. "I did not have to. It has been written all over yours and Kaylee's faces for days now."

Simon gave her a fake scowl and yanked her up to her feet. "Well, at least _try_ to act surprised. I worked hard to get your cake just right."

River quailed in mock fear. "You baked?"

Sure enough, the others were gathered knowingly in the dining area, sitting in plain sight without bothering to hide and the jump out at her. River figured they would not insult her intelligence like that, and smiled at them when she walked in with Simon. The grim, awkward stiffness that had been haunting the ship since Miranda seemed to have abated slightly, just for the occasion.

"My oh my," the captain drawled, displaying for the first time in a while his old dryness, "look how surprised she is. We sure got her good, doc."

"I'm not as good at keeping secrets as I thought," the doctor said with a long-suffering sigh, gesturing for River to sit down in her usual spot. Her eyes landed on the little pile of gifts stacked up in front of her, and felt a girlish stroke of excitement. It occurred to her that she had not had a genuine birthday party in a number of years. Even Jayne's noted absence did not dampen her newly rising spirit. He was probably in the cargo hold again, trying to distract himself.

She reached for Mal's gift first, as it seemed to be the heaviest. Unwrapping the box, she discovered a shiny new pistol that she had been eyeing through a window downtown in Persephone lately. Zoe's gift complimented the captains – a soft leather holster that would strap perfectly around her waist or thigh. River tried very hard not to tear up at the gesture. The fact that both the captain and first mate trusted her with a weapon of her own spoke volumes of the change that had taken place in the ship since Miranda. She thanked them both and tried to show them with her eyes and smile how much their faith meant to her. They saw it.

Inara gave her a beautifully crafted hair clip in the shape of a small bird in flight, made with exquisite craftsmanship. It was not gaudy or flashy, and its simple delicacy fit River's taste perfectly. Her eyes lit up at the sight of it, having never owned something so beautiful and feminine. Even before the Academy, she refrained from indulging in anything overtly feminine. She beamed at the companion and asked her to show her how to arrange it in her hair later. Inara nodded, looking markedly pleased that she chose right for the ship's little albatross.

Kaylee and Simon combined their gifts for her. Simon bought her a new sketchbook, a much thicker one, with smooth crisp paper that smelled of wood and glue, like the store it came from. River ran her fingers over the new pages eagerly, having used up her old one quite some time ago. It would be nice to draw again; next to dancing, it was her favourite pastime. Kaylee supplied her with enough coloured pencils to last her for a year, and beamed with delight when River leaned over to clasp her hand in thanks. She had a terrible tendency to lose her pencil crayons all the time.

"Thank you, everyone," River said at last, when all the gifts were unwrapped and piled lovingly in front of her. She made eye contact with everyone around the table, hoping to drive home her sincerity. "This is the most satisfying birthday I've had in a long time. Your gifts are –"

Jayne tramped in just then, interrupting her with his loud boots clanking on the metal floor. He smelled of engine grease and sweat. "Sorry," he rumbled, plopping down next to her. "Busy in the hold, lost track o' time. Here y'are, girl. Mazzletov."

With that, he shoved a white box into her lap. The cardboard was blemished in some places by the oil on his fingers. She could feel a light ripple of surprise pass through the others. Most had not believed he would bother to get her anything at all. She too had been guilty of that assumption, and felt slightly ungrateful for doubting him.

She slowly pushed aside the lid of the box, unsure as to why she was suddenly feeling so nervous.

"I don't believe it," Simon exclaimed softly, staring down over her shoulder.

Trembling, River held up a pair of soft white ballet shoes. They appeared to be used, as the silk strings were slightly wrinkled, and there was a light grey stain on one of them. Otherwise they were in perfect condition, and River could not remember seeing anything so beautiful in all her life.

The rest of the crew fell silent, their eyes shifting to the brawny merc at her side. She was still mesmerized by his gift and did not turn to face him. Jayne began looking distinctly uncomfortable under all this scrutiny, and busied himself by twirling a fork in his giant hand.

"Hope the size is right," he grunted, glancing furtively at her, waiting for her to say something. "I just looked at yer combat boots and went down two sizes."

"I . . . you . . ." she whispered, finding her voice only for a moment. Her eyes filled with tears and she stared up at him in awe. Truly, this was not the man she had walked with on Miranda.

Jayne made a startled gulping noise when she suddenly threw herself at him. Her arms encircled his neck, trapping him against her as she planted a heartfelt kiss on his stubbled cheek.

"Thank you," she said at long last, burying her face against the joining of his neck and shoulder. There was more she wanted to say, so much more, but her mind and heart were overcome and the words were trapped in her throat.

He coughed awkwardly and reached up to lightly pat her arm. "Well . . . figured they'd help you get back up on yer feet some."

She squeezed her eyes shut, forgetting that her tears were dripping onto his T-shirt. Mal and Zoe raised their eyebrows at each other. Inara and Simon just stared at Jayne as though they had never seen him before, and Kaylee was practically melting into a puddle of sunny goo.

_Well, I'll be damned . . ._

_How did he know?_

_Well ain't that just the shiniest thing?_

_I've never seen him so . . ._

_I guess stranger things have happened. Can't think of any right now, but . . ._

"They depend on you more than you think. Give them time; they'll be ready to lead soon," she said in a murmur that only he could hear, pulling back slightly to look at his face. "Your strength has not gone unnoticed, Jayne. They will remember it before long."

He blinked down at her, deciphering her words before she saw his eyes flick almost invisibly towards the captain and first mate, both still gazing at him in astonishment. River gave a nearly imperceptive nod in response. His sudden, answering grin sent a crushing wave of fondness through her heart, and she molded herself against his contours once more. This time he wrapped an arm around her and squeezed back, and the exhaustion she felt weighing down on him seemed to lift ever so slightly. She realized in the back of her mind that they had never simply touched like this before.

She could feel everyone else's gathering warmth begin to channel through her. Suddenly he was more than the gruff mercenary with a bad attitude. They saw him as she saw him; he was Atlas, carrying their weight when he could have easily let them fall. He was the crutch that had been supporting them all this time, keeping _Serenity_ afloat without a word of protest.

Mal and Inara exchanged long, layered looks that they had not shared in a long time. Zoe leaned back in her seat and did not bother to hide the smile growing on her face. Simon nearly had to physically restrain Kaylee from flinging herself at the gunman. He knew, on some intuitive level that he could not articulate, that this moment was for River and Jayne alone.

Afterwards, she danced again, every day, never wanting to stop. The cargo hold was her stage, and the one man who was her audience no longer bothered switching channels on the radio cortex, now that she could spread her wings again. She did not fear falling anymore; she knew that he would be there, waiting below to catch her and hold her up until she was ready to walk on her own two feet again.


End file.
